


If I Just Lay Here

by brightbulbs



Series: High School AU [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Substance Abuse, implied depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 18:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4149228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightbulbs/pseuds/brightbulbs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://lesjouetsdudestin.tumblr.com/post/119475683880/weird-high-school-prompts-1-we-hate-each-other"> this high school prompt </a>:</p><p>"My semi-formal date ditched me at the dance, and you found me laying pathetically in a snow bank outside contemplating my life." </p><p>Mickey spends semi-formal counting up his earnings after selling weed to his former schoolmates, and Ian spends semi-formal laying in a snow bank after getting dumped by his self-absorbed date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Just Lay Here

**Author's Note:**

  * For [unbrokengibberish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbrokengibberish/gifts).



Mickey leans up against the faded brick, hand shoved in the left pocket of his puffy winter coat counting up the joints he had rolled earlier.

At first he thinks four, his fingers grasping at the rolled up paper as he triple checks. With his free hand he scratches at his neck, nervousness getting the best of him.

Just two.

His hand must have been playing tricks on him. They’re almost gone. Mickey breathes out a sigh of relief, patting his right pocket. As long as his left is empty, and his right is full, he’s good for the night. Pulling the money from his right pocket, Mickey begins flipping through the bills over and over in his hands while counting under his breath.  

$5, $1, $1, $1, $1, $1 -- $10, and $10, add $20, $10 – that’s $50. Breathe. Add another $20 -- $70… add...

White clouds of vapor flow from his mouth in short puffs as he counts through his earnings for the night. Well, not all of it is _his_ , exactly. He continues to count until the metal doors swing open suddenly, startling Mickey and distracting him from his task. His hands struggle to shove all the bills back into his pocket as he conceals himself against the wall as best as possible, away from the overhead light of the back entryway.

It doesn’t matter how good he gets at this, because he’ll always feel that twinge of anxiety every time he does it. Like some fucking asshole will jump him out of nowhere, or that fucking asshole who expelled him currently supervising the dance will find him and call the cops. He instantly relaxes when the two figures that emerge seem too wrapped up in their mini soap opera to notice him.

“Don’t do this right now, we could still have fun!”

Mickey isn’t sure who that is. The person that voice belongs to. The person who follows that fuming pretty boy out of the school gym where the music is booming. That pretty boy who comes to a halt at the edge of the entryway, where sidewalk meets the asphalt of the filled up parking lot. Now that pretty boy standing at the edge of the sidewalk looks familiar. What was his name?

“Ian! Are you even listening to me?”

 _That’s it. Ian… Lip’s younger brother. Gallagher?_ Mickey quickly sorts through his memories. Yeah. He remembers Lip. They were in the same classes up until Lip got placed in an accelerated program, and Mickey – well, Mickey flunked. It wasn’t because he couldn’t copy off the smartest kid in the class anymore, like they said. He wasn't stupid. It was… never mind. Doesn’t matter.

Mickey knows him vaguely. Remembers Mandy talking about him, and some shit that went down a couple months ago during her third block history class. Mandy goes on about it still at times, but Mickey barely listens, only catching bits and pieces of the story each time. All he really knows is that Ian did some weird shit and was pulled from school for a couple weeks. _Whatever. I guess he’s back._ Mickey thinks to himself as he waits for Ian to respond to the desperate fuck head behind him.

Fuck head’s about to turn heel and leave when Ian tucks his hands away in the pockets of his dressy pants, huffing bitterly at the starry night sky. “Fun, huh?”

“ ** _Fun?_** ” He says again, but more emphatically. As Ian turns his body to face fuck head, Mickey sees his face is red and glistening as if he were crying.  The rest of him is white as a sheet of paper, freckles faded by a bleaching winter, reminding Mickey of a ghost.

“Look, I just feel like I’m babysitting your emotions,” fuck head pleads with him, “I can’t keep doing this everywhere we go, it’s getting to be ridiculous. Can’t you just give it a rest for tonight so we can enjoy something together for once?”

“Ah, right, because this is all about you,” Ian sighs as fuck head comes forward to latch onto Ian’s arm. He’s sandy-haired and dressed in pricey looking formal wear, black rimmed glasses framing his angled face. Not bad, but definitely reeks of too much cologne, Mickey thinks. _Still a fuck head_. Ian jerks his arm away and turns his back from him once again, taking a deep breath in the process and allowing his shoulders to drop on the exhale.

“Just go.”

“Whatever. Dealing with you is fucking exhausting. I’m done with this. This isn’t worth it. Good luck, Ian, because you’re not going to find someone like me anytime soon with the way you’re acting!”

The door swings open again and slams shut with a heavy clink.

Mickey can hear Ian shudder as it closes, and Ian runs his hands through his slicked back dark red hair. Mickey doesn’t dare move from his spot, feeling glued in place by the awkwardness that hangs in the air. Then Ian’s screaming. Screaming at the sky. _Fuck you. Fuck you. Piece of shit. Fuck you._ And then he’s falling, flopping face down into the nearest patch of snow which happens to be resting a few feet from where Mickey stands against the wall.

“What the fuck, man?” Mickey shouts reflexively, not really meaning to. Ian groans into the wet snow, grabbing armfuls of the powdery top layer to bury his body in it.

“Dude, fuck, stop it – ” Mickey flops himself down into the patch of snow alongside him, his knees sinking in and getting soaked from it. He grabs Ian’s arm and lifts it up, meeting some resistance as Ian insists on burying himself alive “Stop it! The fuck are you doing?”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” Ian swats his arm at Mickey as Mickey tries to pull him up, nearly nailing him in the eye – literally. “Fuck off!”

Mickey continues to pull on Ian’s arm, and he doesn’t really know why he does. He’s more of an act first, think later type of guy anyways so it's not like it matters to him all that much at that moment. Mickey pulls, Ian pushes him, he pulls again, Ian pushes back, Mickey falls on his ass beside Ian, silently thanking his genetics for the relatively soft landing.

“Damn it! Fuck you! You wanna lay there and freeze to death? Not my problem,” Mickey says sitting from his spot in the snow. He pulls out one of the two joints from his pocket. _Fuck it_. He takes his lighter out of his breast pocket, and lights the joint, cupping the flame so it doesn’t flicker out right away.

“Hey,” Ian says sitting up when the smell of smoke hovers over him, “got any more of those.”

Mickey reaches into his pocket, and thumbs the last joint he has. He pauses.

“No.”

“Oh.” Ian’s face falls and he moves to lay himself back down.

“Nah, no… listen man, here.” Mickey takes the joint from his mouth and passes it over to Ian, avoiding eye contact. “Just take it.”

“Thanks.”

While Ian’s preoccupied with the weed, Mickey scans Ian’s appearance. Even with wet hair matted to his forehead and snow packed to his dress clothes, the boy was still pretty. Long eye lashes. Pinky lips. Oh god, those lips…

“So,” Mickey decides to break the silence between them, trying to distract himself. “What the fuck is this all about,” he motions to Ian and the snow he’s become one with.

Ian shrugs, exhaling and passing the joint back to Mickey. “I don’t know. Trying to make the outside match the inside, I guess. Numb myself...”

Mickey nods, having an intimate understanding of what he means. Numbing himself, at least. Not the whole fuck head thing. He stubs out the joint in the snow, and stands up, patting the snow from his pants. “Well, you got some place you can go? I mean, other than here,” Mickey extends his arms out to the snow covered grass outside the school building.  

Ian sighs, “Yeah. I think I’m just gonna go home.” He gets up from his spot in the snow, his legs a bit unsteady, already feeling the pins and needles in his calves. His arms wrap around his body, trying to rub some warmth back into them. He pulls keys from his suit jacket, and turns to head towards his car.

“Not gonna wait for fuck head in there to join you?” Mickey calls out to Ian who is halfway to his vehicle already.

“Who? Oh, no…” Ian laughs at the nickname, “He can get a ride from whoever. I don’t care anymore.” _Not like he cares either_ , Ian thinks to himself.

“Good,” Mickey nods again muttering to himself, “Yeah, I should get going too. If I don’t, there ain’t gonna be no beds left. Gonna have to shower too…”

“Yeah, thanks for the… you know,” Ian starts, fishing out the car key from his key ring. He finds it, and unlocks the driver’s side door of his car. Thinking over Mickey’s words for second, he turns to Mickey. “Hey, wait, you’re not?”

Mickey smiles and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. Beds are clean enough. Shelter showers got good water pressure.”

“Well,” Ian says, “I don’t mean to brag but, I got a pretty warm bed and a shower.” He looks down, a little bashful. “Can’t promise the water pressure will be as good and we might have to share, if you don’t mind that sort of thing…” Mickey’s eyebrows raise at that. “…but, I can give you a place to stay, for tonight at least.”

Mickey stares at Ian like a deer in headlights, his hand reaching for the money in his right pocket.

Ian thinks he’s freaked him out and begins to ramble, “You don’t have to. Forget it, it was stupid. I’m just. I kinda don’t want to be alone right now. I’m in a weird place. You probably could have guessed that already. I’ll just – ”

“Can we stop some place first?” Mickey cuts him off, “I gotta drop something off to my sister.”

 “Yeah! Of course.” Ian nods frantically, teeth starting to chatter.

“Okay,” Mickey says in reply and Ian smiles back at him, the corners twitching from the cold. Mickey gets into the passenger side and takes the liberty to turn the heat up on full blast as Ian starts the engine. The warmth seeps into their bones, and for a moment things feel alright.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the ending is kind of weird and open-ended, so if you want me to write a part ii, let me know?


End file.
